


Leniency

by ChelseaCattos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelseaCattos/pseuds/ChelseaCattos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look at Davesprite and Jade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leniency

She sat with him on the deserted battlefield, her shoulder pressed up against his, sinking gently into his semi-tangible form. Like lying in a bed of moss, she thought. She laced her fingers through his, enjoying the electric warmth in his hands. It was strange, she thought, that he was once the same Dave she’d always known. Strange that, due to the mysterious windings of time, he was destined to exist just outside of her reality. She did her best to figure out the logistics of his timeline. She understood that everything had been the same up until John messed up and died (sudden, sharp pain at the thought) and then after that he became “just another doomed Dave.” Those were his words, and she hated them.

“You’re not a doomed Dave,” she told him. He fidgeted, shifting slightly against her weight. She kept her grasp on his hand. “You’re just a different Dave.”

He was silent after that, but she didn’t mind. They often sat together like this, being in one another’s company, trying hard not to remembering the things they’d rather forget.

“You’re different, too,” he said after a while. She looked up at him, his features glowing dimly in the fading light. “You’re like her in a lot of ways,” he said, his gaze focused on some invisible point in the distance. She was silent, listening. “It sucked, at first. Being back. Talking to John again. Talking to you,” he paused. His voice was low and soft. She’d never heard him talk this way before. She wound her arm around his. He wrapped his good wing around her like a blanket. She liked the static feel of the feathers, the softness surrounded by just the hint of a spark.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He chuckled, barely audible, but she felt it vibrate in his chest.

“Not your fault,” he said. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” She looked up at him, his eyes orange and glowing from behind his shades. “There are times when I forget everything that’s happened, if you can believe that,” he said. “Times where I’m able to say ‘Fuck it’ and just let it all go.” He stopped, examining her hand in his, considering. She waited, giving him time to think. “Times like that…they’re nice. Just to be myself again, with you and John, and not be caught up in all this game shit.” He gave a short, frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “But then something’ll happen and it’ll all hit me at once, bam, right in the chest.”

“I think I understand,” she said slowly. The thought was hesitant at first, but as soon as she said the words she was almost positive that she understood. She knew because she felt the same way, sometimes. That overwhelming combination of joy and sorrow, knowing that you both want one another, just not this version. The feeling of bitter disappointment at the idea that you could be together, if not for all of this timeline confusion. The constant resentment toward a game that teased you with the promise of real, physical closeness, but snatched away the prize at the last minute. Knowing that, when it’s all said and done, the person you’re with will only ever be an alternate version of the person you love.

“I’m glad we’re here together,” she said after a while. “Even though you’re not my Dave.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, gently kissing the top of her head, “I know how you feel.”


End file.
